A Song for the Dead
by what - - M I G H T have been
Summary: Slash. Alexis is dead, Cain is dead, Jezebel is dead; but Delilah lives on, scattered throughout the world. And, for Cody, son of Mary Weather and Oscar, the arrival of an insane, mysterious man throws his world into a dangerous, deadly confusion. Sequel.
1. Overture

A Song for the Dead

_By Tsuki_

**A/N: I got the idea for writing this a while ago, in the midst of a period of deep regret that Count Cain was over. Simple longing for the story to still be told gave birth to this. It's the first fanfiction I've written that wasn't a one-shot.**

**Warnings: slash (b/b, yaoi) future violence, blood, gore, probably some character death, and whatever else I think of.**

Returning to the Past

_Cody Calder Gabriel. The nineteen year old son of Countess Mary Weather Hargreaves and her husband, Oscar Gabriel. Next in line to the Hargreaves family title. The servants hold a deep respect for the young man, for he looks just like Cain, Mary Weather's late foster brother. Even though the two share none of the same blood, Calder lays claim to the same black hair, which hangs around his face in waves like his mother's. He has the same dark eyes, which can be deep-set, mysterious and dangerous, like Cain's, or twinkling and playful, like Oscar's. He has the same pale complexion, the same dignified demeanor, the same fascination with poisons. He is, in short, an almost perfect re-creation of the Count, the Earl, who was the adored older brother of Mary Weather, the invaluable friend of Oscar, and, last but not least, the trusted master of Riff._

_Though Cain is dead, as everyone knows, thirty years now after the Count's death, the man appears to live on in his nephew._

It happens rarely, if at all, that someone knocks on the great front doors, just at the moment one of the family is passing through. It usually happens that, when a visitor knocks, they are expected, and a servant is waiting nearby to greet them. But, on my nineteenth birthday, as I was pacing the front hall, attempting to prevent my poor head from trying to figure out what mother was doing this year for my birthday, an unexpected guest knocked on the door. And so it was I that ended up answering them.

"Good morning. How may I help you?" Though I was unsure of myself, never having answered a door before, I steeled my voice.

"Good mo- …Cain?" the man stopped, suddenly staring at, mouth hanging open, as his face registered immense shock. His brown hair hung in dreadlocked waves around his face, masking a horrible, puckered scar. A giant, brown overcoat engulfed him. Then my brain realized what he had called me.

"No, I'm, I'm Cody. You knew Cain?" I asked sharply, pulling the door open wider and gesturing him in. "Who are you?"

"You're… not Cain?" He shook his head. "Of course not, Cain's dead. Jizabel's dead, Alexis is dead. Everyone's dead." He cackled suddenly, throwing his head back. I took a step away, unsure despite myself. "But I'm not dead."

"Who _are _you?"I insisted.

"Me? I'm Cassian." He flipped his head back and stared at me again. "You're Mary Weather's son, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Where's your mother? She'll remember me." He turned again, throwing his head back and spinning slowly, looking over the mural painted on the ceiling. "Hey, I can see heaven!"

I backed away slowly, then turned and began up the curling staircase. 'Cassian' was obviously insane, and I really did need mother's help. At the top of the stairs, I ran into one of the older maids, a wizened woman with steely gray hair in a strict bun and a no-nonsense mannerism.

"Marie! There's a guest down there. Would you mind seeing to him? He says his name is Cassian, and-"

"Cassian? Oh, my lord!" And, with that exclamation, she hurried down the stairs, as close to running as I had ever seen her in my life.

"Wait! Do you know where my mother is?" I called after her, then turned with a sigh and started down the hallway again. I found my mother a little ways off, face screwed up with concentration as she surveyed, through a stained glass window, workers in the garden. She heard my footsteps coming and turned, hastily stepping in front of the window.

"Cody! What are you doing up here?" She blushed, something my father constantly teased her about; that she still blushed, at her age.

"There's some crazy guy down in the front hall He thought I was Cain, then said his name was Cassian, and asked to see you," burst out in a rush, my curiosity overcoming everything else. "Who is he? Did he really know Cain? Does-"

"Cody, there is no time for questions right now! If Cassian is _here, _then… Something must be wrong. Hurry!" She bustled off; back in the direction I had just come from, and left me struggling behind her, wondering how in the world she could move so fast in all those skirts.

Cassian was still in the front hall, though he was now seated in a comfy armchair near Marie. She glanced up at my mother and me as we walked in, her face full of worry. "Miss! If Cassian is her, then what does…?" She let the question trail off.

My mother knelt by the armchair, taking the man's dazed face in her hands. "Cassian? Can you hear me? "

His eyes blinked slowly, owlishly. "Mary Weather? I have to warn you…"

"Warn me of what? What's happening, Cassian?" My mother's voice grew frantic. She glanced at Marie. "Did he say anything?"

The maid shook her head. "No, miss. He just smiled and said 'Look, its heaven.'"

"He's sick. They did something to him," Mother deduced as the man began babbling, singing softly under his breath a nursery rhyme.

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?_

"What's going on?" I asked, looking from one adult to the other. But they ignored, instead conversing in low tones.

"What did they do to him? He's still half lucid, miss…"

"Not for long, he isn't. We need to get him some comfrey…"

"I'll bring him to a spare room. Arthur!" Marie clapped summoning a scruffy puppy from under the chair. He danced around her ankles, barking softly. "Arthur, go fetch Johnny. Go, boy!" the dog barked once, as if in acknowledgement, then bounded off, skidding down a servant's corridor.

"Cody, come with me!" My mother ordered. She whisked off upstairs, skirts swishing.

"What is going on?" I demanded once we were in my room. "Who was that man?"

"It's a very, very long story, Cody," she stalled turning to my wardrobe. "But, do you remember when I told you the story of my brother, Cain, and Delilah? His father Alexis? Jizabel?"

"Yes, I do, "I remembered. "And that man- Cassian- he said something like that. He said that Cain was dead, Alexis was dead, and Jizabel was dead. Does he have something to do with Delilah?"

"In a way. But the story is far too long to tell now; just trust me. Can you do that?" She turned back to my, holding m face in her hands. She searched my eyes with her own, whose normally care-free blue depths were marred by concern and… fear?

"Of course I trust you. But why? Why now?"

"I can't tell you. But you are in danger; we have to get you out of here. I'm going to send you to Demetrio Benson's house; he was a friend of Oscar's during the war. They won't expect you to be there."

"Who won't? Why do I have t leave? Mother!" I protested wildly, standing up. But my mother seized me in a giant hug, burying her face in my shoulder. I awkwardly patted her back.

"I am going to miss you so much," she whispered. "But this is for the best. If they find you, I… I don't know what they'll do to you. I don't know what I'd do." She pulled away now, wiping her eyes. "Pack your things. And, please, hurry. You need to be out of here before nightfall.

I still didn't know what was going on. I still had questions; too many, with too few answers. But the sight of the hot tears pickling my mother's eyes hardened my resolve. I would do whatever she wanted me to.

"Alright."

**A/N: oooooohh… that took a bit longer than I expected. Though this chapter is kind of boring. But now I want to know what happens next!!! Don't you? **

**Reviews get imaginary cookies!!**


	2. The Kingdom of the Blind Scene 1

**A/N: Wrote this listening to 'Black Balloon' by the Goo Goo Dolls in a dark room as loud as I could make it without busting my ear drums. I think it worked, don't you? But I'm also kind of figuring out that this is a dark story, and may possibly change to an M rating at some point in the future. Cody, who really is based on Cain, isn't… haunted enough yet. Hmmm… *evil smile* We'll have to fix that.**

**The inspiration for this chapter was about the only thing I took away from 'the Unborn'- which sucked on ice. Barbie as Cinderella beat it in plot. But , though it was horrible, there was a rhyme in the movie, 'In the Kingdom of the Blind, the one eyed man is King', which I found pretty cool. The scene in the club bathroom, where the bugs start pouring out of the sinks, toilets, etc, there's graffiti in her stall with this saying and a giant eye.**

**Warnings: male/male flirtation (aw, shut up- It's not too fluffy)**

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_Inthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomofhteblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneyedman_

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The Kingdom of the Blind – Scene I

_By Tsuki_

He really is quite interesting looking. I've never seen hair so dark, or eyes so serious, or such pale skin. He looks a bit like a ghost. The black carriage he arrived in pulled off, horses tossing their manes and clopping away. I watched the boy, or, rather, the young man. He must be the son of the Countess; who else would it be? Arriving so late, with such little notice, so close to nightfall… It had to be Cody Gabriel. I leaned back in the tree I was precariously perched in, idly reaching up to scratch the side of my nose. Cody knocked on the door, immediately welcomed by a maid. After showing him in, she glanced around, as if she were looking for me.

But that, of course, was ridiculous.

With a sigh I slid from the tree and headed toward the manor.

"Where were you?" the maid, who know recognized as Mira, a middle-aged woman well used to the ways of the house, hissed. "Your father wants you to welcome in the guest!"

"Yeah, yeah…" I brushed past the blind servant, turning with a look of regret as she closed the heavy doors on the darkening sky. _Goodbye, freedom…_

I paused before heading into the Great Hall, where Mira had shown the boy. After a moment's thought, I pulled my goggles over my eyes from their place on the top of my head. They masked the world in a green light, hiding my eyes in the process. I smoothed down my jacket, checked my trousers and boots for mud, and wafted silently into the hall.

Cody was looking over a relief in the marble wall. It stretched a half dozen yards, portraying the man born blind washing in the Pool of Siloam. He didn't turn, didn't startle as I glided silently in. I smirked, thinking that, like all other visitors, he hadn't heard me coming.

I stopped, standing just behind his elbow. "Welcome to Beth Manor…"

He didn't jump, didn't screech, didn't fall over and have epileptic heart failure, all of which many have done in his shoes. Instead, he turned around and said, mildly, with a small, half-smile, "Good evening."

I resisted, barely, the urge to make a face (he was no fun). Instead I surveyed him skeptically. "Are you Cody Gabriel?"

"I am."

"I'm Jared Benson."

He nodded once, surveying me with his expressionless eyes, then turned back to the relief. "This is an interesting scene to have built into your home, isn't it?" He reached out and ran two long, slender fingers along the curve of a ripple in the pool.

"Yes, it is. My father had it commissioned a long time ago, along with the other works you see in this room. There's the conversion of Saul, the healing of Bartimaeus, the blind men and the elephant."

"All of these stories have to do with sight, don't they?" Cody turned, standing in the center of the room. "That's interesting."

"We-"

The tap of footsteps stopped me from explaining. I circled slowly, expecting a servant to have shown up, and, instead, discovering my father. He stalked through the door, his own, mobile black aura accompanying him as he went, seeming to darken the room we stood in, deepening the shadows of oncoming night. He stood, in the forefront of the room, commanding all attention, as always.

My father… No, Demetrio. Demetrio was a frightening looking man. Lank black hair hung to his shoulders, covering the left side of, brushing the top of the long, black cloak he always wore. Black boots, black trousers, and a loose, black linen shirt; Demetrio was in eternal mourning. Mourning for my mother, his wife. When she died, so did my father; all that was left was this husk of a man.

"Are you Cody Gabriel? Oscar's son?" He asked quietly. The room seemed to grow smaller as he narrowed his eyes at Cody. He nodded. "Yes, you are, though you don't look much like him. Welcome to the manor, my dear boy." The way he said this last made it clear that Cody was anything but. "I'm afraid supper has already been held, but I can get one of the servants to bring some leftover to your room, if you wish."

"No, thank you. I don't want to be any trouble."

"Rather too late for that, boy. But I appreciate your concern. We're short-staffed at the moment; one of the maids is sick with stomach pains. She's new to the area, Jesse believes she ate something that didn't agree with her." Jesse was the dignified butler. Demetrio listened to him and spent more time with him than his own son. "I bid you good evening, Cody. Jared."

And, on that note, he swept out again, cape billowing around him, propelled by his long, brisk strides.

I sighed. "I suppose I should show you to your room now." I hated seeing Demetrio. It took something out of me, something important; it made me feel like a falcon with a broken wing.

Trapped.

"Yes, I suppose you should," Cody agreed. I led the way wearily up the long, winding stairs to the second floor. The halls were deserted, the windows wide and gaping; black nightmare holes in the flickering candlelit corridors. A soft wind floated in, and I felt my spirits lift, just a little, as it wrapped around me body, ruffling my clothing and hair. I could hear Cody chuckle behind me, a little breathless from the heavy scent of the forest.

I stopped at the door of a seldom used guest room. "This is it. It may be a bit dusty, but you should be fine. There is a bell by the bed If you need to call a servant."

"I see." He pushed open the door and glance in, before returning to the hallway. "Wait a moment, please." Before I could realize what he was doing, he pushed my goggles up, back into my hair. I stared with shock at him, my eyes adjusting slowly to the now-normally colored world. The little half-smile appeared on his face again. "I thought so. You're actually cute, without those things on."

I watched, my whole body frozen in fiery shock, as Cody slipped into his room and quietly shut the door.

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_Inthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomofhteblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneyedman_

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**A/N: Whoo. i wrote that in -hmmmm- less than five hours. Is it too short? -panics- OH MY DARNIT ITS TOO SHORT!!**

**please review? o3o**


	3. The Kingdom of the Blind Scene 2

**A/N: **Oops. I really did mean to update before this. There' is no excuse for my irresponsibility. I apologize profusely, and pray my new and improved writing skills make up for it. –beams- This chapter is longer than the first two put together, and it's more of the size you should be expecting for the rest of the chapters, as well.  
Don't hate me when you finish it!

_Inthekingdomoftheblindtheoneyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneyedmaniskinginthekingdomoftheblindtheoneeyedmanisking_

In The Kingdom of the Blind – Scene 2

_By Tsuki_

I jolted upright in the bed; my body drenched and tangled in the sheets, my heart beating wildly in my throat. It took a moment for my brain to register that I was not in my bed, at home, watching the sunrise through my window. No, I was in the house of Demetrio Benson, the friend of my father, with his strange reliefs and odd-looking son. The window hung open, swinging on its hinges, and stilled dripped water from the storm that had hit during the night. It was with the rainwater that I was soaked, that plastered the now almost see-through linen sheets to my body. I threw them off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and resting them on the floor, wincing at the cold, cold stone of the old house.

I dressed quickly, moving to the window and pulling it shut, shivering lightly in the early morning mist and chill. My shoes tapped, almost too loud, as I slipped out the door and down the hall. I wondered, briefly, why I was sneaking about the house like a mouse in the baseboards, but put it down to wariness of the new building. I slid cautiously out of a door down a long, twisting hallway, grinning as I emerged into a garden outside Beth Manor.

My shoes clicked quietly on the slippery stones of the path, and I looked around with awe at the garden, which rose up on either side of him in thorny hedges that bloomed with crimson, blood-red roses, even in the rains of early winter. After a moment, the cool, shaded path ended, and I emerged into a kind of arbor, still shrouded with the mist of the morning, and the tinkling, musical tones of a nearby fountain echoed in my ears.

I sighed, at peace with my surroundings again; mother took great pride in the gardens at hone, and, because of this, they were beautifully cared for and well maintained. Once a year, just by herself, I remember her going off on her own to a spot in the meadow, to have a picnic packed for herself and two others… Two people who never seemed to show up. But she had taken me through the gardens often as a child, and I had grown to love nature and the outdoors.

Carefully, I took a seat on a stone bench, tilting my head back to look up at the sky, bracing my hands on the rough edge of the seat. I scuffed my feet on the ground, relaxing a bit, and, once more, couldn't keep my mind from drifting to what had happened at home yesterday. I was confused, and my mind screamed for answers, demanding to know everything. Who was that man, who called himself Cassian? Why was my mother so frightened, and of what? Why did I have to-

"I see you are up early, young Gabriel." The voice interrupted my worried thoughts, and I sprang up, spinning around in search of the mysterious person who had managed to get close to me without my realizing it. It was the man from the night before, Demetrio Benson; the Master of Beth Manor. He loomed in the mist like a shadow, tall and dark and foreboding. He smirked, obviously pleased with my reaction, and continued to speak. "I trust you are enjoying your stay with us?"

I nodded, regaining my composure. "Yes, sir. It's very…" Pausing momentarily to search for a word, I was interrupted again.

"Don't bother. I can see you don't care for this place." He gestured around, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "But you do seem to like my garden?" At a hesitant nod from me, he continued, turning away and lacing his fingers behind his back. "It was my late wife's garden. She loved this place, and was hardly ever away from it." He paused, seeming lost in his memories, staring off into the foggy garden. I cautiously shuffled my foot, wondering if I could leave without his knowing it. He swiveled back to me, alert once more. "I trust you are enjoying your stay with us?"

I stared at him, perturbed and slightly alarmed. "…Yes, I am. Sir."

"That's good. Have you spoken with the staff? They will assist you with anything you need. We're short-staffed at the moment; one of the maids is sick with stomach pains. She's new to the area; Jesse believes she ate something that didn't agree with her." The trepidatious man before me no longer seemed quite so lost; at the mention of the man, Jesse, he seemed to calm. He was still repeating himself, but he was more phlegmatic. "She was our only seeing maid, so I expected things to slow down a bit, but they haven't. Jesse says it is because the others are working extra hard, because they know I'm under a lot of stress."

I nodded, trying to take in the volume of meaningless prattle. "You say she was the only seeing maid?" So the rest of the staff was… un-seeing? They were blind? That surprised, me, really; I'd never have guessed. Was a completely blind staff very practical? I imagine it cause a great deal of problems. "I'm afraid I haven't spoken with the staff. I've only been able to have a word with you and your son, Jared."

Demetrio froze, now, as his son was mentioned. He turned to me with eyes full of fiery, fervent anger. "That boy is no son of mine," he spat derisively, venomously. "It's his fault _she's _dead! I will never forgive him for taking her life. I won't make the mistake that ended her life." And then, He strode towards me, forcing me back until I collided with the stone bench. "I would advise you to do the same, boy."

He whirled off, a twister of billowing black cloth and darkness and anger. I watched him go, my heart beating a furious rhythm in my throat, trying to organize the events that had just passed in my mind. Demetrio Benson loathed his son; that much was obvious. Not so clear, however, were his reasons. He said that Jared had killed her; and I could think of no other woman who would warrant such strong emotion other than his late wife. And that, in itself, set off a whole new round of questions. How had Jared killed her? How had she died? In childbirth? From sickness? Truly, there was no further I could follow this without speaking to Jared himself.

It was only as I made my way back into Beth Manor that I realized that the events of the previous day had completely slipped my mind. Unable to solve the mystery of Cassian and my mother, I had moved on to the next mystery; the blind servants of the Manor and the surreptitious, recapitulating Demetrio. And this was one that would be easily solved. I hoped.

I found the first servant, a maid, dusting the windowsills in a corridor, and approached. "Excuse me, but would you know where I could find Jared?" I waited for her response, as she continued dusting the wall, eyes that were, now obviously, sightless staring straight ahead. After a moment, I decided I must have spoken too softly, and repeated my question. She continued to ignore me, making her way down the hall and deftly going about her duties.

I followed her for what must have been a quarter of an hour, repeating myself again and again, and still she ignored me. _I thought the servants were blind, not deaf. _Irritated, I left her to her work, stalking off down the opposite way to find a different, more cooperative servant. And the incident repeated itself. Again and again, maid after maid, I was loftily disregarded, a literal blind eye and fictional deaf ear turned to me. By the seventh I felt like screaming with frustration and tearing my hair out.

As I rounded a corner, I felt someone move up behind me and slip a hand over my mouth, clamping to my skin before I could cry out. A voice whispered in my ear, "You're going to get yourself in a great deal of trouble, Gabriel." Recognising the voice as Jared's, I ceased my efforts to drag his hand away and stilled. He released me then, taking a step back, and I turned, indignant, to face him.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, matching my tone to the whisper he used self-consciously. "Don't sneak up on people! And what do you mean by that, anyway?" He stared at me without emotion through his goggles, the features I had glimpsed the night before now hidden once more. He was taller than me, but only by a few inches, and looked much more composed than I felt, and far more comfortable in a loose fitting vest and shirt.

He shook his head, gripping my wrist and turning in the same motion, pulling me with him out of the corridor and back into the room I had seen last night, with the four reliefs; the reliefs whose meaning was now that much clearer. He let go again and placed his hands on the wall, running them along slowly, as if trying to feel the curves of the stone. "Keep your vice down, Gabriel. If the maids hear you speaking with me, the news will reach Jesse." He continued his feeling along the wall and I, feeling increasing helpless and in over my head, trailed along uselessly. There was that name, Jesse, again. The name had calmed Demetrio, but Jared seemed almost to fear him. I opened my mouth to say something, though _what,_ I hardly knew, but Jared seemed to have found what he was searching for.

With a click, a panel in the wall shifted, and a chink of darkness appeared in the marble wall. With a muffled sound of triumph, Jared hooked his fingers into the chink and pulled it to the side, proving it to be a narrow, hidden doorway. He turned to me and grabbed my elbow, pulling me inside the door and shutting it behind him. Thoroughly confused and working up a good, livid fume, I turned to my captor, furious, only to discover that the darkness of the tunnel was so complete I couldn't see anything, let alone the already easily imperceptible boy. I threw my hands out—_is this what it's like to be blind?—_feeling for a wall, a door, a _person; _whatever I could find. I heard a soft chuckle, too amused for my liking, and then a warm, large hand found mine and began to guide me.

"What's wrong, Gabriel? Scared of the dark?" I scowled but followed him nonetheless, deciding to confront him when and where I could actually _see _him. Confident that he wasn't going to walk me into a wall or off a cliff—I _was_ in the manor still, wasn't I?—I turned my attention to the senses I still had at my disposal. I could feel the floor through my boots; rough, hard stone, that seemed to slant upwards, as if at an incline. The air was moist and cool, like the air out in the garden, and even Jared's hand, clasped in my own, was only a touch warmer. _So we're underground? Outside? _

As Jared turned a corner in the dark, my arm scraped against a rugged wall, and I dismissed the question of where the hell we were, choosing instead to concentrate on keeping my footing.

With a whisper, his voice cracked through the complete darkness, "Close your eyes for a moment." It was an order, and I obliged, shutting them tightly. Something tapped, then slithered, and, even through my eyelids, the light was warm and blinding red. The grip on my wrist tightened and he pulled me a few steps forward, the feel of the floor under my feet changing subtly before I tripped up two stairs I didn't know were there. He steadied me before releasing my hand, and then came, again, _tap, shhhhh. _"Alright. You can open your eyes." His voice was somber and wary; even through the hint of amusement that I could only assume was at my expense, he sounded grim.

Cautiously, I cracked my eyes open now; the sudden light hurt, but didn't blind as much as it might've, had my eyes been open for the transition. I blinked, clearing away sunspots, and peered around curiously. We had emerged from the tunnel into a room, the walls made of stone and curving around in a great circle around us. Behind me, where we had emerged, there was no door to be seen; only a plain, stone panel. Wall hangings, depicting fanciful scenes of unicorns and knights, hung to the floor, the tasseled hem chewed by mice. A dark, sturdy desk of what may once have been expensive cherry wood rested against the wall by a slit in a window, yellowed paper stacked haphazardly on top. Bookshelves lined the rest of the walls, stacked with well-thumbed, dog-eared tomes, and a wicker rocking chair stood before a fireplace that, from the looks of it, hadn't been used for a long time. Everything but the fireplace looked, though slightly grimy, in good use, as if someone used this room often and simply disliked dusting. In the midst of it all stood Jared, behind the rocking chair, hand propped on the back.

I raised an eyebrow at him, attempting to say, 'I'm going to throw something at your head' through my expression. But what I _said _was this, my voice dangerously quiet; "Would you like to start explaining, maybe? Perhaps you should begin with why I was dragged through a secret tunnel into a tower room with no door." I leaned against the wall the door should have been on, folding my arms to wait for his response and struggling not to begin shouting. Jared watched me, unperturbed, head tilted slightly to one side, watching me from behind the sanctity of his goggles.

But he countered just as quickly. "There's as much for you to explain as there is for me to. For example, why were you looking for me to begin with? But we'll save that for later." He paused, letting silence fill the room just long enough to make me slightly uneasy, then smirked and began again. "I just may have saved your life, dragging you up here."

My jaw dropped for a second, but I snapped it up and narrowed my gaze as he continued. His voice was carelessly condescending, as if I was a fool for not already predicting what he was about to tell me. "How many maids did you speak with, trying to find out where I was? Five? Ten? Enough to do a great deal of damage, I know. Jesse _will_ hear of you, and he will not be pleased. He might've let you alone, had you kept yourself to yourself and asked no questions, but now there's no telling what he'll choose to do."

"But _why_? Who is Jesse? Why is he so dangerous? Why are all the servants blind? Why will no one speak to me? _Why is there a hidden tunnel to a secret room?"_ I swept an arm around at the room in question, knowing I had allowed my temper to break and quite unable to repair the floodgates. I was confused, and angry, and my arm hurt where I had scraped it. I pointed an accusing finger at Jared and resumed the tired, barely breaking stride. "Everything—everyone—has gone insane! I haven't been able to get a straight answer out of anybody, even before I left home! I have to know what's going on!"

I fell silent and stood there, breathing heavily, fists clenched at my side, and he watched me, now visibly surprised. He would never guessed, I thought bitterly, that behind the polite manners and quiet façade lurked a flaming temper. He opened his mouth, paused, closed it, thought for a moment, and then sighed. He sat down in the rocking chair, and waved his hand at the desk chair in a manner that told me I should sit as well. I did so, and he began; not with my first question, but in the rambling manner of a storyteller. "My mother was a beautiful woman, charismatic and kind. She, Maylene, and my father, Demetrio, were married when they were young; he was twenty-six, she was nineteen, and they were happy. For a few years they lived easily, without woe or worry, and they moved to Beth manor; the home recently vacated by my mother's uncle. My father was not familiar with the property, but adored it, and my mother knew every inch like the back of her hand. They hosted grand balls and galas, and everything was perfect.

"And then Maylene became pregnant, and their happiness only increased. For months, the manor was animated with preparations for the coming of the child, and my father doted upon my mother even more than he had before. When she went into labor, however, things took a sinister turn. A midwife was called for, and the two locked themselves in her bedchamber with only a few maids. My father paced outside, worried as the hours drew on. Half a day passé, and the sun set and rose again, and still the labor dragged on, the quiet broken by my mother's pained cries and sobs and the murmured orders of the matron. Finally, after almost two days of this horrible waiting, the midwife emerged, bloody and tired, with a wrinkled, purple, squalling child in her arms.

"Me.

"My father took me in his arms and thanked the midwife, before she could say a word, and then rushed into the room where his wife lay. He collapsed in the chair by her bed, holding me in one arm and clutching her hand, asking wildly if she was alright, if there was anything she needed. She didn't answer, and a moment later the matron entered and told him, her face full of grief, that she hadn't survived the birthing. My father… the news shocked him. He was angry, insisted that she must be wrong, and turned back to my mother, begging her to tell the midwife she was being foolish and it was a poor joke. But she didn't answer."

Jared paused, and I glanced up at him, startled to see the stony, furious twist to his features. I waited one moment, and then a second, and, finally, as he continued to stare at the stones of the floor, I clear my throat. His looked up sharply, as if he had forgotten I was there, and then nodded softly and continued.

"I was told… I was told he lost his mind after the incident; he went mad, he lost the ability to cope and to understand, and reacted violently to the littlest things. My mother's closest maid, who was frightened for both my father, me, and the other servants, convinced her elder brother to come to the house to keep it in a semblance of order. Surprisingly, my father accepted the man without question, and took to him right away. His disturbed behavior, for the most part, disappeared, and he began to act like a normal human again, though he still wouldn't hold me or go into his wife's chambers.

"The brother quickly wormed his way into my father's trusts, and was appointed butler." He looked me straight in the eye, now, the lost look from only a second before gone. "Jesse. The two of them… It's like they feed off each other. Their personalities have adapted and developed so much; it's as if they blended into one mind in two separate bodies. My father trusts him with his life, and takes his advice like they're from the Bible, and Jesse is absolutely _devoted_ to my Demetrio; it's almost sickening. My father learned from Jesse self-confidence, cunning, solitude, arrogance, and Jesse took from my father a sense of justice, and detached formality, mystery… and a deep hatred of the cause of Maylene's death.

"Me."


End file.
